by Karis Walsh
“I usually eat a regular dinner at my parents’ house,” she said, avoiding eye contact with Brooke. “Just on the holidays.”
“Anything to keep the peace, huh sister dear?” Amy said with a bitter laugh. She turned to Brooke. “I remember the first Thanksgiving that Andy tried to announce she was a vegetarian. You were in high school, weren’t you?”
“Shut up, Amy,” Andy said quietly, but with enough authority that Amy actually did as she said. There was a brief pause, then Andy asked about a couple of mutual friends, apparently a safe topic for the sisters since the uncomfortable conversation got them through lunch. Brooke took their plates to the kitchen while Andy shuffled her sister out of the apartment.
“Sorry about all of that,” Andy said when she returned to the kitchen a few moments later. She picked up a towel and dried the dishes Brooke had washed. “She’s a bit difficult to take.”
“What happened at that Thanksgiving?” Brooke asked quietly, her eyes not leaving Andy’s face as she put the plates in the cupboard.
Andy shrugged. “Dad yelled, Mom cried, the whole dinner ended up on the kitchen floor. Typical holiday at the Taylor house.” She grabbed another couple of beers from the fridge and led the way to the sofa.
Brooke sat next to her, one leg tucked under her hip. She took the beer that Andy offered and swallowed some while she worried how to phrase her next question.
“When we were with my parents, at Jake’s house,” she started, “my dad raised his hand toward you, and you flinched. Did you think he was going to hit you?”
“No,” Andy said, gazing directly at Brooke. “I was scared he was going to hit you.”
“Because your dad used to?”
Andy sighed and looked away, taking a long drink from her beer. “Not much. Nothing serious. Besides, I learned how to act, what to say, to keep things from getting out of hand.”
“Like pretending that you’re not a vegetarian lesbian?”
“Exactly,” Andy said as she nervously picked at the label on her bottle. “I know that makes me a coward.”
“No,” Brooke said quietly. “I think it makes you very brave. To still be who you are even though you don’t get approval for it.”
“No. It’s not brave to pretend to be someone else and to compromise my values. But the only other choice is to sit through the fights and to know that when I go home, I’m leaving my mother alone with him.”
“Is this why you didn’t want me to tell my parents about us?”
“I was afraid for you. I didn’t know how they’d react.”
Brooke frowned. “My father would never hurt me. No matter how angry he got.”
“I didn’t know that for sure. All I knew was that I wanted to protect you.” Andy brushed the back of her hand along Brooke’s cheekbone. Brooke sighed and leaned into the contact. She wanted to hold her, to wipe away the pain she had experienced in her past, but she worried Andy would shy away from any expression of sympathy. She had a feeling not many people were allowed to see beyond the controlled façade Andy showed the world, and for now it had to be enough that she had shared some of her past with Brooke. They sat together, making no move to build on the light touch but each needing to feel close to the other. Finally Andy withdrew her hand.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said, draining the last of her beer in one long pull. “Do you want to go see a movie?”
“Are you asking me on a date?” Brooke asked.
“Huh, I guess I am,” Andy answered, offering her hand to help Brooke up. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s about time,” Brooke said with a smile, giving Andy’s hand a squeeze. “But it might be against the rules.”
“To hell with the rules.”
Chapter Twelve
“I’m not qualified to do anything,” Brooke complained the next morning. Andy, her hair still wet from her shower, brought her coffee to the dining room table and glanced over Brooke’s shoulder at the want ads she was reading. Brooke handed her a sheet of paper. “Look at this resume—it’s only a half-page long, and Dad is my only reference.”
Andy scanned the brief resume. “Maybe you could work as a paralegal at a different firm?”
Brooke knew Andy’s suggestion was her most reasonable option, but much as she needed to find work, the thought of settling for some version of her old job made her feel like a failure. After her struggle to redefine herself and break free from the past, she hated to end up back where she started, not only doing work she disliked, but with the added risk of running into Jake at the courthouse on a regular basis. “It’s the job they picked for me,” she said quietly.
Andy tossed the resume back on the table. “Then take your time to find the right career for you,” she said. “Don’t settle. And in the meantime, I have a job you could do. It’s just a one-time gig, though, and it only pays dinner at the restaurant of your choice.”
Brooke looked up at Andy. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
Andy dropped into a chair. “No nudity required,” she said with a laugh. “My students have their fall recital tonight. Pete, the other teacher, and I could use someone to organize things backstage. We usually have a parent do it, but they’d rather be out in the audience.”
Brooke frowned. “Work with kids? I’m not sure.”
“They won’t give you any trouble. They’ll all love you.”
“I don’t know about that, but if it’ll help you, I guess I can do it.”
“Perfect,” Andy said, getting out of her chair and giving Brooke a quick kiss on the top of her head. “We should leave by four. Start thinking about where you want to eat after.”
“For this I get sushi,” Brooke announced, ignoring Andy’s grimace and returning to her job search.
*
“Your recital is in a church?” Brooke asked as Andy parked in the empty lot.
“A couple of my students are members here. They let us use the sanctuary a few times a year for these events. The acoustics are great, and it’s less intimidating than a big recital hall.”
Andy unlocked the door and led Brooke to the small room where the students would wait for their turns to play. She handed her a clipboard.
“Pete teaches piano lessons, and we join forces for these recitals since neither of us has a lot of students. There are sixteen numbers, and I’ve listed them here in the order they’ll play.”
She pointed to her neatly written schedule. “This gives you the student’s name, age, and instrument. Also, this column lists what song they’re playing and what music book it’s from. They’re supposed to have the pieces memorized, but there’s always some last-minute panic, so you can let them see the music if they really seem scared. Here are the music books, and I’ve put tabs on the pages you might need, and I’ve cross-referenced the students’ names so you can find the right song quickly.”
Brooke looked at the clipboard and the pile of music books with little color-coded tabs sticking out of them. “My God,” she said. “You are freakishly organized.”
“I am not,” Andy said indignantly. There was nothing freakish about being prepared. Her first recital, when she was seven, had been a disaster because she hadn’t known what to expect. By her second one, she had her music organized, the right clothes picked out and clean. So now she made lists and schedules for herself and the parents involved, so her students could focus on their playing. “The kids are less nervous if everything runs smoothly.”
Brooke just rolled her eyes as Andy continued. “Remember, these are little kids, so you need to make sure they’re ready to go in the right order. No going to the bathroom if there’s only one student in front of them.”
“So how did you pick the order? Do they go by age, or level, or social security number?”
“Height, actually,” Andy admitted. “It’s less distracting if I’m not out there adjusting the music stand after every student. We alternate strings and piano to make it more interesting.”
Andy gently pushed Brooke toward the first arrivals and slipped out of the room to check on Pete’s progress in the sanctuary. She returned only moments later to find a red-headed boy tugging on Brooke’s shirt.
“Lady, I really gotta see my music again,” Andy heard him say as she walked over to rescue Brooke.
“No you don’t, Bobby,” Andy said. “You’ve been playing that piece without music for a month now. What’s the first note?”
“An A?”
“Right. Once you have the first one down, the rest will come back to you. Now go get your viola ready for me to tune.”
She turned to Brooke and smiled at her frazzled expression. “How’s it going?”
“They’re driving me crazy. I don’t know how you do it.”
Andy stepped closer and casually rubbed her hand across Brooke’s back. “I usually have them one at a time, so it’s easier. They get a little worked up on recital night.”
“I’m beginning to think that one dinner isn’t enough payment,” Brooke informed her, leaning in to her touch. “I demand a raise.”
“Anything you want,” Andy said with a smile, brushing her body against Brooke’s as she walked away. Brooke watched her go, feeling her body tingle where Andy had touched her. She shook her head and turned back to her clipboard, trying not to stare at Andy as she moved easily through the room, tuning instruments and cheerfully listening to her students. It was clear they adored her, and the kids clustered around her looking for encouragement and sympathy to help them through this ordeal.
Brooke spotted a small girl sitting in the corner. She didn’t think she had checked this one in yet, so she walked over.
“Hi there. What’s your name?”
“What’s your name?” the girl echoed.
Brooke raised her eyebrows, but introduced herself first. “I’m Brooke.”
“I’m Becky.”
“Let’s see, you’re second to go. That’s good, isn’t it? Get it over quickly.”
“I’m not playing tonight,” the girl informed her.
“Well, you’re on the schedule,” Brooke said. “And you know how much Andy likes her schedules.”
“I’m not playing,” the girl insisted.
Brooke looked around desperately and caught Andy’s eye. Andy handed a viola back to one of her students and came over to the pair.
“Good evening, Rebecca,” she said formally. “Are you giving my friend Brooke any trouble?”
“She says she won’t play tonight,” Brooke informed her.
“Tattletale,” Becky said. Brooke stuck her tongue out and made the little girl laugh.
Andy knelt down. “Why don’t you want to perform tonight? You’ve been practicing a lot, and I know your dad wants to hear you play.”
“If I play, something bad will happen,” the girl whispered.
“Something bad?” Andy echoed. “What’s the absolute worst possible thing that could go wrong tonight?”
Becky thought that one over for a few seconds. “I’ll forget my song and pee my pants?”
Brooke covered her mouth in time to smother a laugh, but Andy managed to keep a straight face.
“Hmm, that is a bad thing. I’ll tell you what, we have quite a few students playing tonight, so it’s all right if you don’t want to perform,” Andy said. Becky sighed with relief, but it was short-lived. “When it’s your turn, I’ll tell the audience that you can’t play because you won’t remember your music and you’ll pee on the church floor. They’ll understand.”
“You wouldn’t really say that, would you?” Becky asked.
Andy shrugged. “I need to explain why you’re not onstage. That’s part of being a musician. Your audience comes to hear you play, and if you’re not going to, then they deserve an explanation.”
Becky struggled with that for a moment. Brooke didn’t believe Andy would actually announce such a thing, but her face was dead serious, and if she were in Becky’s position, Brooke wouldn’t dare call Andy’s bluff. Apparently Becky reached the same conclusion.
“I didn’t say that would probably happen, just that it might happen.”
“Oh,” Andy said, her brow furrowed. “So what probably will happen?”
“My hands will shake and I might get some notes wrong.”
“You know what?” Andy leaned over and whispered in a confidential tone. “Whenever I play for the symphony, that’s exactly what happens to me. My hands get a little shaky, and I sometimes play the wrong note. But no one seems to care. They just like to hear pretty music.”
“I guess I could try to play…”
“That’s great, Becky. Now why don’t you run to the bathroom before we start, just in case?”
The little girl trotted away, and Brooke finally let herself laugh. Andy stood up and smiled at her. Given Andy’s thorough preparations for this recital, Brooke had expected to see her ordering the kids around like they were recruits at boot camp, but she hadn’t seen any sign of Andy’s need for control when she was interacting with her students.
“Remind me never to play poker with you,” Brooke said.
“I never bluff. And please stop sticking your tongue out when I’m around. You’re too tempting as it is.”
With that she walked away and started gathering her students together. Brooke trailed behind and listened while Andy gave the kids a short pep talk and told them she would leave the door open so they could hear the other students as long as they were very quiet. She put her hand on Brooke’s shoulder and reminded everyone that she would be in charge and they should do exactly what she said. The kids looked unconvinced, and Brooke did as well, but Andy seemed confident they would make it through the night with no major mishaps. Finally she left the room with the first grim-looking child. One down, fifteen to go, Brooke thought.
Brooke was able to watch most of the recital from her position in the doorway, but she spent more of her time watching Andy than the students. Most of the kids performed quite well, but after weeks of listening to Andy practice, the sounds of the beginning players were harsh even to Brooke’s untrained ear. She found herself wincing a few times at a squeaky bow stroke or a glaring wrong note. Andy’s expression never changed, though, and she smiled serenely through all of the performances.
She hung back after the recital as all of the parents and students wanted to have a chance to talk to Andy and hear her praise of the musical prodigies. A few of the smaller children, Becky included, even came over to Brooke to get a hug and have her meet their parents. She could feel Andy’s eyes lingering on her, and she was relieved when they finally were able to gather up all of Andy’s organizational supplies and head for the car.
It had started to rain while they were in the church, so they ran across the parking lot and jumped in the car, laughing and shaking the drops of water out of their hair. Andy sat back in her seat with a sigh, not moving to start the car right away.
“I’m glad to have that done,” she admitted. “It’s good for the kids but tiring to plan. You were such a big help tonight, and I really appreciate it.”
“I kind of had fun,” Brooke said. “But I’m definitely not applying for a job at a day care.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the heavy rain and deserted parking lot giving them a sense of intimacy. Brooke felt a thrill of nervousness, wanting Andy to kiss her yet dreading it at the same time. It seemed any time they started getting close they started to argue instead, so she cast around for a casual topic of conversation.
“I don’t know how you do it,” she finally said. “With all of your training and your ear for music, how can you hear some of those mistakes and not cringe?”
“When I first started teaching I would unintentionally make faces if my students messed up. All it did was make them nervous, and they’d concentrate on how I looked instead of their playing. I had to stop letting what I heard reflect on my face. It’s mostly habit now, but sometimes I have to bite the inside of my lip. I know it’s a bad recital if I make m
yself bleed.”
“I’ll have to try that next time,” Brooke said with a laugh. “But it’s more than how they sound. I guess I expected you to get upset if anything went wrong, but you didn’t seem to mind if they forgot their music or went in the wrong order even though you had the evening planned perfectly.”
“Perfection isn’t what matters,” Andy said with a shrug. “I plan the details so the kids trust me to know what’s going on. If I yell at them for every mistake, they won’t enjoy the music or learn anything. Those are the things that count.”
Brooke silently wondered how many mistakes had been allowed in the Taylor household. “So, how about that sushi?” she asked out loud.
“A promise is a promise, I suppose,” Andy said grudgingly, starting the car. She was smiling, though, and Brooke relaxed back in her seat as they drove. She had enjoyed watching Andy at work tonight. Seeing the evidence of her love of music and her desire to share it with her students had helped Brooke figure out some of the qualities she wanted in a job. Creativity, passion, the joy found when talent and work united. Brooke hoped she could find a career like that for herself someday.
Andy parked near the sushi restaurant and stopped the car. She reached over for Brooke’s unresisting hand, lacing their fingers together.
“I really did like having you with me tonight,” she said, her free hand brushing at a strand of hair that had come loose from Brooke’s ponytail.
“Me too,” Brooke agreed. She was all out of casual conversation, so she leaned toward Andy, and their lips met in a gentle kiss. Andy held back, not pushing the kiss too far, so it was Brooke who finally gave in and ran her tongue over Andy’s lower lip.
“Ah, there’s that irresistible tongue,” Andy said against Brooke’s mouth before taking it again in a much more passionate kiss. They broke apart after several minutes, both breathing heavily. The effect of having all of Andy’s intensity focused on her was intoxicating to Brooke. She wanted to suggest they skip dinner and go straight home, but she knew it would only make Andy pull away again, like she did whenever they got physically close.